Musings of a Deranged Mind
by BankruptSamurai
Summary: A collection of one-shots, failed story concepts and ideas that I must rid my mind of.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: None of the upcoming copyrighted media belongs to me.  
**

**ELECTRIC SOUL**

The painful, annoying sensation of overly bright morning light was quickly felt by the slumbering form of Xander Harris, causing a groan and a face to be buried in a deep blue pillow. Eyes still closed and now safe from being burned from their sockets, Xander discovered something odd. His head. It was pounding. No, pounding was far too light and frivolous a word to be used. No, it felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his brain and each beat of his heart caused sharp pains to shoot through his skull. Concentrating, his mind wondered back to his last conscious memory. It only took a moment, but the thought was strange and vaguely worrisome.

_Halloween_.

He remembered . . . little. No, again that was wrong. He remembered things, but they were foggy. Really foggy. He could barely make out shapes or colors - at the moment - of those memories, so he focused on what led to Halloween. He remembered nearly three weeks prior, the whole "Angel's an inattentive jerk, so I'm going to flirt with frat boys who incidentally worship a giant phallic snake demon" incident with Buffy. He remembered the weeks since then, the vamp attacks and the time spent with his two friends. Even a really slow evening vamp-wise that led to Xander's humiliation at a game of Euchre with Buffy and Willow. He remembered the thirtieth and Buffy's panic-induced whittling of stakes, while Willow went and stocked up on holy water and he just stole a bunch of crosses from local churches.

As far as he was concerned, the thievery was a wash if the theft led to the permanent death of the unholy abominations that Buffy called vampire and he occasionally called 'fanger'. If not, it should be.

Then they'd discovered - via Giles - that Halloween was quiet, as demon and vampire alike found the entire idea of hunting on the night to be cliché and tacky. Buffy then stunned Xander with an offer for the three of them to stay in and watch horror movies, so long as they avoided vampires and _The Exorcist._ The former for the want to not bring the job home, the latter because just the thought of it gave the blonde Slayer nightmares. Thinking harder, as things were quickly becoming so very blurry, Xander recalled Snyder killing those plans. _With children!_ A strange thought which was banished quickly, then reassessed. Children. Snyder had wanted them to watch children. While they trick-or-treated. The thought process sped up, Xander remembering how Buffy had embarrassed him in front of Larry and how she later had apologized.

Xander stopped all movement then, remembering everything. Buffy had apologized inside Ethan's Costume Shop. She'd bought a incredibly pink noblewoman dress and a wig of brunette hair. Willow had purchased her usual ghost costume, this one complete with a bold-print "BOO!" on the chest. Xander had intended to keep things cheap, since his money was just that - his own. His mother would've ignored the request for costume cash and his dad probably would've called him a retard for dressing up at seventeen. He'd looked for a plastic gun, only to have the last purchased by Harmony Kendall for some completely unknown and potentially terrifying reason. He'd bought . . .

Xander's eyes opened, horror shining through clear as day.

Xander had bought blonde hair bleach, a blue and white striped sweater and a necklace with a gold lightning bolt on the end and decided to call himself Thor, God of Thunder. It'd been weak, but he was out of ideas and speaking in a deep voice, speaking like he was something out of one of Shakespeare's works had been incredibly amusing. The children had thought him strange, but acceptably hilarious, which was all he wanted. Then it'd all gone downhill. He remembered unbearable pain, like his body was being ripped apart - inside and out. He remembered a scorching agony deep in his chest, like something inside him had been lit on fire and then drenched in kerosene. He remembered his screams as it all had ravaged him. Then he remembered a brief sensation of his skin suffering horrible burns, but it only lasted seconds.

At the end of which, he was a girl. Then there was chaos. Halloween night was there, but the only thing that Elle Bishop had done was let loose and got herself plenty of wild, with a side-dish of complete mayhem. She'd shocked the Willow ghost, literally, causing her to phase out of existence for a few seconds. Did it a few more times before Willow got angry and she grew bored of it before abandoning her and Buffy and let herself have some fun. She'd electrocuted countless vampires to the point of dust, country-fried too many demons to count and caused enough property damage that the Mayor of Sunnydale would soon discover and promptly die of a coronary five seconds after discovery. The only relief that could be found in the entirety of the night was that it didn't seem like Elle had killed anyone in a costume. Xander was certain Larry would have some pretty serious electrical burns after groping Elle and that whoever that small blond teenager who dressed as Aquaman was would probably develop a twitch or twelve; but no human lives were taken.

It was almost like Elle heeded Willow's warning, but between the not giving a damn if people were in the buildings she'd scorched and how much trouble she had addressing . . . Harmony dressed as Sarah Connor . . . in anything resembling a sociable manner, it was hard to believe. Xander also remembered other things, but they weren't Halloween havoc or about the fact that for one night only he-had-been-a-she, but about Elle. It shed a lot of light on her behavior and though it was an insight, the memories of countless days spent with a drip shoved into a young girl's arm wouldn't exactly help Xander sleep in the future. It was unsettling to have those memories there, when not two minutes ago Xander could hardly recall anything that'd happened in the past twenty-four hours. He knew it was good to remember, to be prepared for whatever fresh hell he'd encounter when he met up with his friends, with Giles; but there just seemed to be something inherently wrong about knowing another person's life inside and out.

Which he did. He could now recall every moment of Elle's childhood. The house burned down, the unintentional blackout, the shitstorm that were her eighth and ninth years on this planet and living in one small institution that also served as a prison. Every moment of isolation from humanity, every tension-filled moment spent with Bob Bishop and how his own daughter became a tool, a weapon whose minimal feelings - mostly for Commander Dad - were never considered. How she was robbed of the most simple, most important experiences and how they, along with endless experimentations, had formed the deranged, murderous, sociopathic, socially-retarded evolved human that was Eleanor Zoe Bishop. He could also feel the not-too-distant ache from the gunshot wound, the incredibly faint remnants of adrenaline from Elle's brief battle with Sylar. It was unnerving and suddenly, Xander was a lot less comfortable. He couldn't really begin to untangle what was Elle and what was Xander, because he realized that now that he was far more conscious, they weren't just distant memories. They felt like his own memories and while they didn't make him wish for Elle's powers and a living body to torture, they did weigh on him as disturbing. Horrible. Indescribably cruel in a way that he hadn't even witnessed in vampires, which was horrific in its own right.

His left arm ached fiercely and constantly, a steady burn there that could only be contributed to being the victim of a recent gunshot wound. On top of that was a general ache, soreness that spread throughout his entire body - head to toe. Along with that pounding migraine that had assailed him since he had woken up.

So he just sighed and decided he'd spent enough time on this himself. He'd been awake five minutes already and a downed alarm clock told him he still had an hour before school. Usually he'd sleep until he only had ten minutes to arrive one minute before the bell rang, but the not-his memories in his head and his various aches and pains made him decide to debrief with an overly stuffy British guy and his two best friends. Getting out of bed, he stumbled gracelessly and pushed his door open and stood still for a moment. His father's rumbling snores were as loud as ever and that meant his parents were still out cold from their drinking the night before, which he was grateful for, for once. He slowly, blearily and with much in the way of caution walked across the dull gray carpeted floor and stepped into the bathroom, wincing at the abnormally cold tiled floor of the bathroom. He grabbed his toothbrush, looking to the mirror.

While he expected a manly shout, it was not what he got. Not even a manly yelp. But instead, a high-pitched squeak that despite wishing it weren't so, definitely came from him. Or if he was going to be factual about it, came from her. Because staring back were two shocked, cool blue eyes beneath light eyebrows - about fifteen hundred shades lighter than Xander's jet black, as far as he was concerned. A ruler straight, feminine nose above a small mouth with pale pink lips that were they not somehow his own, Xander would've considered enticing, inviting. A strong, feminine chin that although out of place with the otherwise petite, pixie-like features of a fair face that overall, just seemed unnaturally tiny to his eyes. The nearly platinum blonde hair that just barely rested on small shoulders. His mouth opened further and Xander realized that was the wrong personal pronoun, now. No longer could Xander be considered a "he." No, Xander Harris would now correctly be referred to as a "she." Standing in the Harris' only bathroom, there was only one thing to say when staring at the visage of a seventeen year old Elle Bishop.

"Oh, _fuck_!"

* * *

**This story is officially cancelled. I haven't worked on it in almost two months and the story became more of a character study than the action-based genderbender I intended it to be. If anyone would like to adopt this story as their own, let me know. The only thing I ask for is credit for the prologue. Otherwise, it's yours.**


	2. Chapter 2

**No Friends of Mine**

Buffy couldn't help but watch nervously as Willow prepared the ingredients for the spell they were about to attempt. It wasn't so much the dangers of the spell Willow had read from one of the older tomes of magic Giles owned, but more the fact that they were entering the T minus two minutes and counting… portion of the spell.

"So you're sure you have everything and that you can do this right?" Buffy asked, her nervousness beginning to tilt towards dread. Willow nodded emphatically.

"Totally, the new owner over at the Magic Box actually has some really useful stuff. Not like they didn't before, but all this is like the US Prime of magical ingredients, Buffy," the explanation making the blonde blink a bit at the odd analogy. Willow caught the look. "What? Like I'm the kinda girlfriend who'd give her werewolf boyfriend anything less than the best when he's all furry and growly?"

"What?! No, it's just . . . mixing meat and magic for the 'splainey. It's weird," Buffy replied, backpedaling. Willow seemed sated, though, as she went back to arranging the herbs that actually smelled kind of nice. Like lavender. Of course there was something in the weird witchy circle that gave off a really powerful, sharp, bitter smell that when combined with Slayer senses was making Buffy's nose run and eyes burn.

As Willow placed one of Xander's handcrafted stakes that she knew he liked to use on patrols (apparently the stakes _she_ whittled constantly gave him splinters) next to a Twinkie and a small, tied up lock of his hair, Buffy sat awkwardly on the library table. The spell had started a while ago, really. Xander kept getting himself hurt on patrols. A bruise here, a bruise there was nothing. But ever since the thing with the Fluke - as Willow now called it, exclusively - Buffy could swear that the Scooby gang's founder was throwing himself into more danger than before. A month ago, Xander sprained his wrist when a vamp managed to catch him before Xander could stake it. Not even three days later, Xander came to school with a black eye - and a seriously mondo bad mood when Buffy told him he shouldn't patrol on his own. She didn't understand why he snapped at her and ignored her for the better part of a day and a half, but she figured he was just doing it so she'd lighten up. Lay off. Stay out of his quest to be a vampire punching bag.

Since then he'd collected a few more bumps and bruises but after he _purposely_ let one of those ugly blue lady demons kick his ass the night before, she and Willow agreed the spell needed to be done. For Xander. So why all of a sudden did she feel like she might be doing something wrong? Apparently Willow noticed her anxiety, because the slightly taller redhead sat next to her.

"Will, I'm not like some kinda weirdo for thinking this might be an idea schooled in the way of bad? In the land of the baddom? Taught by the-" she babbled on, until Willow cut her off.

"No, not weird. A good friend, 'cause you don't want the magic to go 'grr, Xander Harris! Grr, you suck, take this!' and hurt him somehow," Willow replied, "but Buff, I read Giles' book. Twice! It's a little advanced for a-"

"Rookie?"

"Novice practitioner," Willow said tensely, Buffy offering a meek apology smile. "But I can do this. I have to do this. Xander's Xander and I just know the second we turn our back on him, he's gonna jump on Godzilla and start poking him in the eye!"

Buffy sighed. "Yup, sounds like Xander alright. But the spell? It's . . ."

Willow picked up where Buffy trailed off, to assure her friend. "A safety spell. The book says that the spell's 'sposed to ensure the subject of the spell is safe 'from the gravest of harm' or something like that and-and that if the caster's will is strong enough, pure enough it makes the spell even stronger!"

"So Xander won't lose an arm or his head?" Buffy asked with an eye on Willow, who nodded quickly and happily. Some of the tension eased out of her, and it must have been visible because Willow seemed happier, and Buffy found herself nodding along. "Then if it helps, I'll be like an energizer bunny and you can use Buffy-will too."

The redheaded Wicca just grinned, slipped off her shoes and sat cross-legged in her weird circle thing. Buffy shrugged, kicked off her shoes and sat next to her friend, mirroring her in every way. Willow took her hand, intertwined her fingers so Buffy couldn't escape and the blonde mimicked her.

"Yamantaka, I beseech thee…"

* * *

As Xander entered the school in a considerably darker mood than he had awoken with, he let his mind wander over the past twenty-four hours. Giles had discovered what he had thought to be a large congregation of vampires with "ill intent" towards Sunnydale and its continued existence. Except they were weird blue-skinned chicks. With a group of six small horns above each eye. And sure, their faces were definitely kinda vamp-like, but they were also insanely tough.

So he'd let the one who looked the most important - or insanely pissed at their interference - beat him up a bit so the others could handle 'em. Which in turn had everyone thinking he should hang up his title as demon hunter and maybe become the Scooby gang's cheerleader or whatever. He guessed he could understand the train of thought of wanting to keep him safe but what he didn't understand was where the girls - except Cordelia, she didn't really count anymore which was something he was becoming increasingly comfortable with - got off sidelining him.

Yes, he brought the donuts. Because no one else would and he'd gotten tired of a cranky Buffy during research parties. It wasn't the only thing he was capable of. As far as he was concerned, he did a pretty good job of handling himself. While demons were a bit harder for him to handle, he could take a vamp, easy. He'd taken up to three at once, staked them all and lived which he thought was a pretty good accomplishment considering he wasn't a mystically empowered anti-vampire superhero. Most people couldn't survive one vampire.

And as for the whole demons kicking his ass thing, he could hardly be blamed that Giles somehow never had the time to train him despite the fact that most of Buffy's training was complete by the time Kendra had shown up. After that, it became more of a when you want to and surprise training sessions. The Watcher who thought he should watch the exits had more time on his hands and had never offered. Xander understood he hadn't been exactly proactive either, but . . .

He'd ask today. Now, even. He couldn't sit and rag on Giles when it was just as much his fault that he wasn't prepared for every possible ugly that crawled out of the Hellmouth. Ignoring Harmony who looked at him with obvious scorn - Cordelia nearby with an "I win" smirk in place at the sight - he made double-time to the library.

As the doors swung open, Xander was treated to an odd sight. The library was obviously empty of a certain member of a British secret society, but did have a barefoot Willow and Buffy sitting in a muddy red looking circle. Inside the circle was a weird design Xander knew he'd seen before, but was quickly distracted by what was placed to his friends left, right and center on the painted circle. On the left, a Twinkie. On the right, his favorite stake. Directly in front of them . . .

"What the hell?" he muttered, not noticing the surprised and panicked look in Buffy's eyes as he walked into the library, staring. At the front of the circle was a fairly thick tuft of black hair. Xander blinked. Was that _his_ hair? What the hell were they doing with his stuff and his . . . ugh . . . hair?! "Okay, what are you guys doing?"

"Xander-" Buffy managed and now Xander could see the panicked, cornered look in her eyes. Having had enough, Xander was about to just break the stupid circle that obviously had something to do with him when Willow stopped chanting. The symbol the two were sitting on flashed a faint gold, one that resonated in Xander.

He felt warmth.

Love.

Completely at peace, unworried.

A split second later, Xander Harris' world was ripped apart in a torrent of pain.

* * *

Buffy's eyes immediately widened. The weird symbol she'd been sitting on just glowed and made her butt all warm like she'd just sat in a chair someone had used for hours, the circle surrounding her and Willow pulsed and the serene, almost awed look on Xander's face vanished an instant later.

Becoming a look of absolute agony.

"XANDER!" Ignoring Willow's horrified shout, Buffy got to her feet and closed the distance in time to grab her friend and feel every muscle in his body tensed. Xander managed a short, growling sound of pain and coughed. In Buffy's face. Which was now covered in blood that Xander had shot from his mouth. Before she could even wince from the warm feeling of the blood on her face, Xander went boneless and slid from Buffy's grip and hit the floor.

Buffy stared in disbelief. She could feel the cold library floor on her feet, the warm liquid covering her face and making it hard to see out of her left eye but emotionally she was in shock. Xander was just lying on the floor his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, unblinking. His chin had a little blood on it and his orange sweater had two pale hands clutching at it. Hands that belonged to a redhead that she was pretty sure she knew. A redhead who was speaking frantically, almost sobbing as she offered out apologies and begged Xander to come back.

That was when a cultured English voice cut through the library like a whip.

"By God Willow, what have you done?!"

Was he kidding? Buffy was sure he was kidding. She and Willow had just murdered one of their best friends.

Buffy spilled the contents of her meager breakfast on the floor.

* * *

Rupert Giles couldn't decide what needed to be done. In situations such as the one he currently found himself in, the rule of thumb was to call the police and have justice served. Murder, as it was, was something not to be taken lightly.

However when the murderers were both young girls - one freshly eighteen, the other seventeen years of age - _and_ one being his charge and the other a woefully inexperienced witch, well . . . he could forgive his hesitance.

For once.

If the victim wasn't a seventeen year old boy. Who was the young girls' best friend. A young man, who, while human had thrown himself into the fight against the darkness with a fervor that the Briton hadn't seen in quite some time. It was truly commendable what the boy had done in his brief exposure to the dark. He gave his Slayer a support system he never knew the Slayer needed. Brought her comfort, normalcy, friendship and a loyalty that knew no bounds.

He'd brought Buffy back from the dead, twinning the Slayer line and more importantly, keeping the girl in the land of the living. Which was something Giles had always been grateful for, moreso as he grew to have a father's love for the young miss Summers. He'd been instrumental in so many different fights that as he thought about it rather belatedly, Buffy and Willow's idea of having Xander step back from a fight he chose seemed absolutely crackers.

The worst was he knew he validated the thought in earshot of his Slayer, who must have taken his agreement as permission. Which in Giles' mind, made him just as responsible which made him sick to his stomach. Because while Xander could be annoying, the levity the boy could bring to almost any situation was always taken for granted. While he wasn't particularly close to the boy, Giles respected how he'd keep everyone from falling too far into the dark. He admired the boys burgeoning skill with a battle axe. And though it was unlikely he'd admit it now - especially after being effectively sacked - he had entertained the thought of bringing Xander before the Watcher's Council post graduation more than once.

Giles just sighed, glasses off as he polished them roughly and blinked away the burn building in his eyes. It had been hours since Xander had been killed by the two people he obviously cherished most. Putting his glasses on, he gave everyone in the room a once over.

Buffy had moved from catatonia to hysterics and now to genuine grief, alongside something he couldn't identify. If his analytical measure proved to be right, it looked a lot like self-loathing but it was mixed with something else. Oz had an arm around a trembling, still crying Willow who appeared heartbroken. She hadn't done much else than cry out her pain and occasionally, mournfully managed to whisper Xander's name before breaking down again.

But even still, it boiled his blood to see her giving his book a look of betrayal. As if it were responsible for this horrific loss of life. _Idiot child_, the unbidden thought came.

Oz was a bit more controlled. He'd shown honest shock when the two had explained what he'd done and simply asked why they'd do something like that - which had made Willow cry even harder and he'd been silent since. However, Giles was able to pick up a slightly lesser sadness in the laconic youth's eyes when they drifted towards the still, now cold body of Xander Harris.

The other two girls in the room had entirely different reactions. Faith had shown up to train and Giles had seen how wide, how large those brown eyes had gone. He'd seen a quaver in her jaw but when she learned what had happened, that initial glimpse of emotion was lost towards the Boston Slayer crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the two she had verbally berated, angrily so. She'd occasionally take potshots at the two but kept her cool in front of them all.

Cordelia had gone from her . . . public persona, as Giles thought of it, to that of a distraught young woman. She'd looked broken at the sight of the body and it'd taken Giles the better part of a half an hour to calm the young girl down from a hysterical breakdown. Apparently the last thing she'd said to him wasn't exactly kind and while she wanted him to call the cops on Buffy and Willow, he could see she wasn't doing well. She'd already admitted she hated herself for what she said to Xander but Giles could sense that the girl cared more than she'd let on. That there were still some feelings for the late teen that she wouldn't speak of.

Fortunately, Angel and Wesley were missing. Angel, sleeping off the day and the official Watcher doing whatever it was he did during the day.

Giles focused on the two girls. Let himself feel anger instead of sorrow. That would come later when he was home, alone. But Buffy and Willow, two and a half hours later had come back to themselves enough to explain why they performed the spell that ended Xander's life.

"Let me see if I am hearing you two correctly. In the interest of keeping Xander safe, you two agreed to cast a 'safety spell' in order to assure that no harm would come to him. That Xander would not be unduly slain in the line of duty. Because simply pushing him out was not enough for the two of you. Instead, you resort to casting what amounts to a bloody hex on the boy, _for his own good!_" By the end, Giles was shouting.

"B-b-but the book said-"

"The book, if you'd bothered to acknowledge what you were reading, is clearly a book of spells that at best qualify as chaotic neutral!" Giles bit out, cutting Willow off. "This 'safety spell' as you call it, is a _hex_. While it protects the subject of the casting from 'grave harm', it clearly states it is not without a price!"

"But it went wrong, Giles, how is that-" Buffy began, but snapped her mouth shut at the look Giles sent her way.

"Yes, it did. Tell me, can you name one instance where magic and Xander seemed to react as intended?" he asked.

The two girls remained silent, but eventually, defeated, shook their heads.

"Exactly. You did not plan for any ill effect, at all. You did not acknowledge the risks. Furthermore, you purposely planned this while I was in a staff meeting, which tells me you knew I would have stopped this nonsense before it began," he replied quietly, just feeling tired at this point. Buffy's teary eyes were downcast while Willow was sobbing anew into Oz' shoulder. He knew he could drill the point home by congratulating them on murdering their friend but chose to stay silent instead.

"Now what?" Oz asked.

"Now I suppose I call the Watcher's Council, explain what happened. They will be able to arrange a funeral without involving any officials."

"Bullshit!"

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" The latter of the two responses was what surprised the group. Faith's explosion was something Giles had expected. Cordelia's shrill, almost manic shriek was not.

"N-no. I-I'm afraid not. While this is . . . unforgivable, involving the Slayer in yet another murder so closely linked to her might be the last of Buffy's chances. While Faith is recognized as the official Slayer, Buffy still . . . she is still important. Still recognized. This," Giles replied, not enjoying speaking the words, "is an unprecedented time on the side of light. Two Slayers, fighting the forces of evil. While Buffy will not get off without punishment, the Watcher's Council would likely intervene in any legal setting."

"And Red?" Faith asked, her voice tight.

"There would be no point involving the police. The cells of man are not suited to contain a witch. No, Willow will fall under the purview of the council. She will undergo trial, as I assume Buffy will as well and if the council finds her guilty of malicious intent, she shall have her powers permanently bound and sentenced to life in one of their prisons. If innocent, as I assume she will be found through her ignorance, her powers will be temporarily bound as she is taught by seasoned practitioners."

There was a squeak of disbelief from Willow and she looked like she may speak, but Giles silenced her with a glare.

"This is not a discussion, Willow." With that and an "un-fucking-believable" from Cordelia, the room was silent. Giles turned from the children in the room to the front of the library with the locked doors and where Xander's body laid on the table he'd moved. It seemed more appropriate than letting his body lie. Giles moved to him, intending on moving him to the weapons locker. He stared at the still form for a moment.

"Need help with the table?"

Giles ignored Faith, feeling the burn return to his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Xander," and with that, he made a move to the boy. Then Xander's eyes shot open and he drew in a large, gasping breath that sounded completely over-exaggerated as his back arched and color returned to his pale skin far too quickly. Giles himself shot up straight and made to move back, but a hand shot out and clutched his shirt.

At the same time Willow shrieked, Buffy instinctively shot out of her seat and moved to defend them all, a shouted "the fuck!?" from Faith and Cordelia just yelled "Hellmouth!" as it explained everything.

Giles - in the throes of sheer terror he felt - absentmindedly assumed Oz' reaction was purely visual. Xander breathed heavily, his eyes scared and wild shot around the room. Giles could also see pain in the boys eyes, as if his body physically hurt. When the brown orbs landed on the person he was attached to, they widened.

They may even be as large as Giles' were, though he wouldn't know.

"B, wait!"

"Faith, what the hell-"

"Shuttup! You hear that!?" Faith snarled and Buffy went quiet. Giles of course stared at Xander as the breathed heavily and color continued to return to his cheeks. He seemed to wonder what was going on, if his expression was anything to go by.

"What . . . ?"

"He's gotta heartbeat." Giles heard Buffy's shocked sound and the hopeful sound from Willow. If Faith truly heard his heartbeat . . . Giles didn't know what to think. When he'd checked the body, there had been no pulse whatsoever. Xander had been dead. Giles felt fingers loosen as Xander's face tightened. He moved away, looking back. Faith had a hold of Buffy's sleeve. Willow looked like she might rush over to hug her friend, but Oz - with very wide eyes, a testament to his emotional state at the moment - had a hand on hers. Cordelia was watching carefully, but clearly hopeful. Giles looked back at Xander, who now appeared to be furious beyond belief.

The look was directed at Willow.

Xander slid off the table, angrily moving towards Willow.

"What the fuck did you do to me!?"

* * *

**Author's Note: I've seen a few pieces of fanfiction where Xander dresses up as Captain Jack Harkness on Halloween and thus becomes Jack's specific brand of immortal. However, I don't think I've ever seen an attempt to give Xander that same immortality through events within the Buffyverse. So I figured I'd give it a try.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Son of Lies**

_November 3__rd__, 2015_

_3:38PM_

_Stark Tower, New York_

Tony Stark sighed as his suit was quickly and efficiently disassembled as he landed on Stark Tower, walking down the stairs at a rather sedate pace for once. The Avengers had been operating for a little over three years now and while nothing as extravagant as the Chitauri invasion had happened again . . . they were busy. SHIELD had decided, due mostly to his public status as Iron Man that he'd handle a lot of the teams public relations and it had been a unique experience, selling the Avengers to the public.

In a word, they were popular. Tony Stark had never been shy, but becoming an _actual_ celebrity had been a harrowing experience.

On top of that, different Avengers were called for different problems. He spent a lot of time in the air and working with air traffic control, preventing mid-air collisions and assisting when they did occur. Clint and Natasha were rarely called upon for actual Avengers work and if both didn't actually now live in Stark Tower, he'd probably wonder if they did any work at all. As it was, the two were absent a lot which confirmed they were still SHIELD. Banner also lived in the tower while continuing his own work. He was also the only Avenger who'd hadn't been called in until a few days prior.

Not that he minded. Or Bruce minded. If the world needed Hulk on a regular basis, they would both worry.

Captain America had spent a disturbing amount of time working with SHIELD. Cap didn't seem as torn as he'd originally been while working for them - although Tony held no illusions about the soldier's alliances, given how he was usually at Fury's throat - and assisted all over the world in many a war effort and as such, made the Avengers fame skyrocket even further. Many loved them.

More than a few men and women of international status hated them just as much, if not more.

Thor quite frankly had popped up here and there, but hadn't had anything to do with SHIELD or the Avengers since New York. Until Halloween. They'd all been called in, Bruce included and were given a report on what was happening. Tony had learned of the supernatural and frankly, he wished he hadn't. Something called an "Old One" had gotten loose - the name coming from Thor, of course, as Fury's description was the understatement of the new millennium. Hostile Sub-Terrestrial his ass.

Nonetheless, the ancient pureblood demon had appeared sometime Halloween night in a small town in California called Sunnydale. It hadn't wasted any time in arriving in New York - for whatever reason - to begin a reign of terror, which had interrupted a Halloween party he'd thrown _and_ actually managed to rope Clint and Natasha into coming. They were called in, expecting something easily managed and the team moved out. They'd fought the thing for the better part of the night, before Thor had arrived in a panic. They fought a while longer before Thor eventually managed to kill the pureblood, much to his shock.

They spent the next day with SHIELD, going over what happened. Well, most of them did. Thor vanished pretty quickly after giving them the lowdown, which was odd behavior for the Asgardian. But he explained his initial panic, as he feared for their lives as the Old One was one Shuma-Gorath. He thought they would have died much faster at the hands . . . err, tentacles . . . of the Old One but explained the pureblood had been surprisingly weak.

A thought that terrified Tony as he was a walking bruise with a pretty serious concussion, Thor had been looking more than a little ruffled, Bruce was walking with a limp, Cap was doing his best to hide that he'd been pretty severely thrashed, Clint now had a pretty nasty collection of cuts over his body and Natasha had a broken arm in addition to the black-and-blue package they all shared.

After that, the Thunder God seemed to figure it was a pale shade of the true demon and took his leave of them. Most of the team suspected Fury knew the truth behind the one-eyed freak, as he'd been completely silent in lieu of Thor's news and had just moved on.

Then the next day they helped clean some of the destruction from the apparently "weak" Old Ones rampage. Fortunately, most people didn't know what the Avengers had fought and it seemed it would stay that way.

But at the moment, Tony didn't care. He'd figure it out once he felt better, had digested the information that the supernatural was out there and looking to swallow them whole and after the week off he now had mentally planned with the woman who had so effectively claimed his heart as her property.

He looked around his home, saw the others settling into various pieces of furniture. As he was about to offer a round of drinks, he heard someone humming something that sounded an awful lot like the theme to _The Greatest American Hero_ and his head whipped to the sight of a somewhat well-muscled young man with one of _his_ bathrobes covering his apparently nude form. He had shoulder length black hair that was wild and untamed, thick eyebrows over cold, light blue eyes. He was a bit on the pale side and obviously fresh out of the shower.

"Oh my God," Tony managed, his eyes wide with disbelief. The others who had not noticed the strangers presence were now alerted, also staring in shock. Tony was shaking his head. "Why do I even bother with security? Or Jarvis, for that matter? Jarvis, care to explain my houseguest?"

"Jarvis is takin' a nap, mister Stark," the young man offered, "or I think he is. I mean, I know British guys like the back of my . . . I don't actually look at the back of my hand that much. Huh. I know British guys like I know Cordelia Chase's shapely ass, but computer AI's? Not so much. He had this big, really boring explanation for what he was doing, but I may have zoned out. Then a while later it sounded like he'd had enough of me and shut himself down."

"Jarvis?!" Tony near-yelled, very close to panicking.

"Yes, sir?"

"But you said . . . Jarvis, what were you," he trailed off. "Why is. Okay, I'm calm. Jarvis, were you napping?"

"No sir, I had merely shut myself down temporarily to avoid the young mister Harris," the AI explained, ignoring the indignant response from the kid, "as he talks almost twice the amount you manage in a twelve hour day over the course of just six. Prior to that, I was making changes to several databases at Director Fury's behest for your 'houseguest'."

"And who, exactly, is he?" This was from a tense Steve Rogers who hadn't taken his eyes off the young man in question.

"Name's Xander Harris. Technically, I'm a neighbor. I'll be living here, according to a lot of people who are a lot more intimidating than I woulda imagined."

Silence met his reply.

"I'm sorry, what?" Tony eventually managed.

"Not really my choice, Tin Man. Director Fury wants me here to keep an eye on me, because he doesn't trust me as far as . . . well, as far as that hot redhead you work with could throw the Hulk. Something about the meeting of immature, irresponsible minds," he shrugged, taking a seat at the island separating them from the kitchen. "Plus, my family was a little adamant I remain somewhere they can visit."

"Your family?" Natasha asked. The woman didn't emote much, but the displeasure at being referred to as just a "hot redhead" and being reminded of her thrashing at the hands of the Hulk - something Bruce had winced visibly at - was clear on her face, tone and posture.

She had also snuck up behind the young man, ready to harm him in some permanent way if he kept at his disrespect broken arm or not, Tony figured.

"Yeah," he replied with a higher pitch, startled. He spun away from the juice he was pouring himself, looking down at the petite, curvy ex-assassin. He swallowed.

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Um, wow. Y'know, when I saw the news a few years back and you all on it, they kinda blurred out your face in the few shots you were in. So I was all 'hmm, bangin' body'. Or actually, Jesse was, 'cause that's how he was but I definitely agreed. But you're actually kinda beautiful. And scary. Not that being scary makes you less beautiful or anything, it's actually kind of a turn-on. And _man_ Sunnyhell's warped my mind."

The eyebrow was joined by a second, a mouth hanging open that then closed almost immediately. Tony thought he saw a smirk appear on her face after the boy's babble, but he couldn't be certain. He also couldn't be certain, but he swore he saw a little more sway in Natasha's hips than was normal as she walked back to her perch on Steve's chair. Huh. Was that new? Had he missed something? No. Stop. Focus.

It seemed that extra sway didn't matter, with the way this 'Xander' had his eyes glued to her ass. Steve scowled, Clint actually smirked a bit and Tony frowned a bit, still curious about Natasha's choice of seat.

"You didn't answer her question. Also, Sunnyhell?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Xander answered distractedly, "did that on purpose. The 'folks' will be by pretty soon and there's no need to go into Giles-mode and bore you to death with longwinded speeches. Sunnyhell's what I call Sunnydale. Where I'm from. Which is also where that geek Jonathan came from before Thor turned him into paste."

The implication that this 'Jonathan' person might have been the pureblood they had helped Thor kill just two days ago was not lost on any of them - not even Steve, who was turning an alarming shade of white - even if it didn't make any sense. Xander sighed, looking like he hated explaining all this.

"Basically, Sunnydale sits on a mystical portal to hell. Or a hell. Not really clear on the particulars, but it attracts demons, vampires, badness in all of its forms. Sometimes it spits out demonic hydra monsters," he said, completely missing Steve's wince, "other times it makes girls invisible 'cause they feel invisible. It's this whole thing."

"Which explains why you're here, how?" Clint asked, finally sounding - and looking - annoyed from his place on the couch.

"Halloween. There was this Chaos Mage named Ethan who opened up a shop and turned everyone into their costumes. Are you single?" he asked of Natasha, the non-sequiter throwing everyone off.

"I'm at least ten years older than you."

"And I have thousands of years of memories in my head. Trust me, if someone here's a creepy, cradle-robbing pervert, that'll be me. From now until the day I die. Huh, suddenly I feel like a jerk for ragging on Deadboy so hard."

Ignoring the second half of the comment, Natasha spoke. "You're cute, kid, but I doubt Fury or your family would be happy-"

"My family's unconventional at best."

Natasha just sighed, rolling her eyes. "No."

"No, you're not single?"

"No, I won't go out with you." Tony noticed Steve seemed to relax.

Xander made a face.

"Who said anything about going on a date?"

The silence that followed that statement was very telling. Natasha's eyes narrowed, even as a nearly imperceptible blush colored her cheeks. Both Steve and Clint looked offended on the Russian's behalf. It was Bruce who broke the silence.

"Okay, even I know you stepped in it, kid. And I'm not exactly what you'd call a people person."

"What? What'd I do?"

Tony just stared in disbelief. Not only was this Xander completely ignoring he wasn't even welcome here quite yet, but he was somehow oblivious to the three death glares he was getting and the plain-as-day innuendo he made.

"Well, aside from making me feel much better about myself as a person and making the Tony Stark of old look downright classy, you're pissing off a room full of people who could hand you your ass," Tony managed, still studying the kid. He now had a glass of orange juice and had reheated _his_ omelet from a few days prior and was tearing into it with great relish.

Xander shrugged.

"Par for the course. I've made annoying a two hundred and forty-seven year old master vampire into an Olympic sport. Pissing off the Avengers is hardly worth mentioning," he mumbled through a mouthful. "Okay, it's worth mentioning but I was human when I irritated Angel. I'm hardly defenseless, now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Clint asked.

"Hold your horses already. Pepper's on her way back from the store and she wants to hear about all my bidness too. Plus, the old man being here will help speed up the explanations and incriminations."

Steve took control of the conversation then, hoping his commanding nature and impressive history would sway the kid. "We could force an explanation out of you."

Xander held up a forkful of egg, sausage and green pepper. "One, even if your girlfriend is at least somewhat comfortable with torture as a viable means of extorting information out of others, you are not. She is the rye swirl bread of morality. You are white bread of morality."

Clint snorted in amusement at the analogy, earning himself a dirty look from Natasha.

"Two, big, green and ugly could probably intimidate me into it pretty quickly, but Dr. Banner's not gonna hulk out indoors. Or on a minor. Doesn't have it in him."

"True," Bruce replied, nodding.

"Three, I'm a wascally wabbit. I may not know this place inside and out, but trust me, memorizing the exits was the first thing I did when I got here," Xander added. Steve was quiet. Tony then remembered something.

"Wait, girlfriend?!"

Xander frowned. "If those two aren't bangin' each other silly, then I really am a wise-cracking anthropomorphic rabbit."

Tony looked at the two. Natasha was scowling fiercely at Xander while Steve was blushing a shade of red that nearly matched Natasha's hair. Xander shrugged at the redhead.

"What? Mister loyalist there kept looking at me like I was a Nazi when I asked if you were single, you're both comfortable around each other in a way that suggests intimacy and ever since you sat back down he's had his hand on your ass."

Steve's arms couldn't have crossed over his chest faster. Natasha's scowl deepened. Tony couldn't believe it.

"Am I always the last one to know these things?" he asked, mostly rhetorically.

"Definitely," Clint said.

"You _are_ surprisingly self-interested and unaware of what goes on beyond your work sometimes," Bruce offered gaining a disbelieving look from the billionaire.

"Sorry sweetie," Pepper called out as she emerged from the elevator, "it's true."

Tony just shook his head, carefully studying the two lovebirds in question.

"When did this happen?" he demanded.

"Well, since white bread there's comfortable enough for the ever illicit PDA . . . eight months? Maybe nine," Xander guessed.

"Fourteen months," Natasha muttered.

"Huh," was all Xander said. When Pepper pulled out what could only be a box of Twinkies, Xander popped out of his seat and kissed the woman on the side of her head and ripped into the Hostess snack cake. As he began inhaling the thing, he looked at Tony.

"What?" Tony asked, annoyed.

"You better keep a hold of that one, Stark. Your woman's a goddess."

Still annoyed but feeling it fade, he nodded with a small smile in complete agreement. He heard a sound of mild disgust from Steve when Xander inhaled another Twinkie in short order. Then Xander's eyes flicked outside as two new figures entered the tower.

"Oh great, they're here just in time to skip right over the awkward silence. Hey, god-daddy!"

A sigh came. "I told you already, it's father and if you must insist on being so painfully informal, dad. But greetings to you as well, son. I take it the Midgardians treat you well?"

As the voice sounded, Tony heard Pepper gasp and drop something breakable. Completely ignoring his team and turning the long way around, Tony locked eyes with the source of that oh so familiar voice.

Standing next to a somewhat sheepish Thor was Xander's father, Loki.

* * *

**Author's Note: This chapter is a response to challenge 7300. I had the initial meeting of Xander and the Avengers in mind so I decided to get the idea out of my head as soon as possible. In case it isn't obvious, I decided it'd be a cross with Marvel cinematic universe and thus adjusted the timeline accordingly. I know Xander's pretty OOC here, but I doubt merging with Loki's mind would leave Xander the same person. So yes, it's crack. And yes, this is most definitely a one off.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Left Behind**

"So let me get this straight," Xander replied, waving his hands a bit to emphasize his feelings of disbelief. "You're my father."

"Yep. I distinctly recall the moment you were conceived."

"Gross. Really gross. So, you're my dad. Cool. I can deal with that. Means that technically, I'm as much a Harris as I am a Clinton. But you hunt demons, too?"

"Well, I don't call 'em demons-"

"But pretty much the same thing."

"Sure. Oh my God, kiddo, it's a fucking lion!"

"What?!" Xander yelped, spinning around.

He turned back to his father, glaring.

"That's a cat! Not even a cat, a kitten!"

"Then you'd probably agree I was overreacting, that the graveyard kitty is hardly a beast of prey?"

"Of course! I . . . oh," Xander drawing the word out, "I see what you did there. Clever. But on the Hellmouth, in poor taste. You taunt Murphy enough, you will get smacked down by the fist of an exceptionally petty god."

All he got was a shrug. "Point taken."

"Back to this whole . . . disaster. You kill evil things, I kill evil things. I kill 'em in the Sunny D, you killed 'em back in the literal dawn of the fourteenth century."

"Yeah."

"And also back in '87?"

"Yep."

"But you knew my Mom back when you were what? Twenty-one?"

A sigh. "Uh-huh. We had a thing. She was the cute college co-ed with a heart of gold and the body of a porn star."

"Oh, for the love of Zeus! Stop!"

"Just sayin'. We were young, horny and we weren't very bright. We had some fun, we broke up 'cause she met some guy who turned out to be your step dad and a few months later, apparently Jess was pregnant. And trust me, you're my son."

"I can see that," Xander replied. His mind still was in a state of disbelief, however. "But then . . ."

"Me and some friends spent spring break in this little rinky-dink cabin that basically had a big ol' book of evil demonic spirits and all around horrible shit. My friends die, I wound up killing my then-girlfriend after I decapitated her. Then I had to kill her again, eventually had to chop off righty because it got possessed by the asshole making my life miserable, killed some more folk and when I try and get rid of the bastard, send it back to hell, I opened a portal and wind up in the past. Where I killed more deadites than you can even begin to imagine."

"Then the portal opened back up and spat you out into Sunnydale."

"Took a couple weeks, but yeah."

"How'd you know-"

"Well, freshman year I spent my spring break here. Came for the beaches, met your Ma, blah, blah, blah. I get yanked back through time and wound up here. Considering your Ma was the only thing in Sunnydale I had any attachment to I looked her up, saw her slumming it with some fat slob and then I saw you. Figured I'd introduce myself, let you know that your old man isn't a drunken waste of space," Ash finished, looking like he was hoping against hell Xander was finished with his breakdown. He also had the look that said he wanted to kick the shit out of Tony Harris.

He'd probably had the misfortune of seeing his stepfather yell at his mother or him to bring him a beer.

But to be honest, Xander wasn't really sure what to feel. On one hand, yay! He wasn't Tony Harris' son. He had to forcibly repress the urge to Snoopy dance all over the graveyard. On the other hand however, Xander's real father - standing before him in a dark blue button-down and tie with duct tape over his missing hand - wasn't old enough to look the part. If he had to guess, he was maybe twenty-nine, thirty years old. In public, he'd undoubtedly be seen as Xander's older brother.

Although it wasn't exactly his fault the portal that had teleported him almost seven hundred years into the past didn't respect _his_ personal timeline. By all accounts, Xander thought Ashley "Ash" Williams should have been returned to 1987. It was only fair. Instead, he was here in 1999. Xander sighed, rubbing his face and wondering if anyone would even believe he was his father's brother. They looked too damn much alike. There were a few differences in bone structure, their noses were slightly off, Ash's chin and jaw were a little stronger and Xander was willing to admit his father definitely had the better looking head of hair, but because of the very visible age gap you could only assume Ash was his father. Fraternal twins didn't have an age gap of eleven to twelve years.

So his parentage should never become public knowledge, because of that fact. His Mom would go to jail faster than Buffy inhaled jelly donuts.

Fuck.

Then there were Xander's friends. Not that he was really convinced those _people_ were any more his friends than Jack O'Toole had been. At least Jack was up front about it. You fuck with me, I'll gut you with my overly large knife with it's lady name. Xander was pretty certain that between not wanting him hurt or dead and somehow discovering his lie that saved billions of lives, Buffy was going to keep pushing him out of the group. Something her pet corpse would help push, if not for his spending a century in hell then for reminding him he was nothing but a demonically-animated corpse with pedophilic tendencies, and a coward to boot.

Willow had pretty much cut any ties she had with him to stay in Buffy's good graces the past three and a half weeks since the Hellmouth nearly opened. It'd been going that way for months now, but the fact that she was willing to accept the lifeline that came with the attached price of betraying a twelve year long friendship for her first girl friend, a girl who she clung to mindlessly after two years of knowing her. The attached price that made her out to be poor, defenseless and violated by his brutish self only sweetening the pot.

Oz was Oz. Even if he played a cool face, he was not going to offer Xander a friendly hand as he was ostracized from the group. Faith and Giles fell into similar waters, so far as he was concerned. Faith had sex with him, once, before tossing him out on his ass. That was as much his fault as hers, but the group seemed more accepting of the Bostonian after she helped them keep the Hellmouth closed.

Giles would follow his slayer into the depths of hell, with a merry, proud smile on his face. Impressive, but meant he couldn't rely on his help.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was a non-entity however, as he didn't push one way or the other as he was content to lust after a girl who wouldn't be eighteen for another two months.

Cordelia.

Cordelia delighted in his misery, as in the end she may be one hell of a woman but when hurt and angry, she could gladly sink into the role of the petty bitch she played at in the halls of Sunnydale high. He knew he deserved some of it, but to take the full brunt of the punishment for the group, to be the villain in this twisted play his life had become?

It was bullshit, pure and simple.

Then his father shows up, explains that he'd been in Sunnydale for close to a month and spins the yarn that is his extremely fucked up life. Xander had been tempted to believe it was just some demon playing a game but Ash had pulled out a battered wallet and removed an equally trashed photo. A photo Xander had seen his Mom look at occasionally, wistfully throughout his years.

A younger, much healthier Jessica grinning at a camera held in the arms of a younger and slightly geekier Ash Williams, also with a grin that could split his face.

Even then, Xander could almost instinctually feel himself drawn to his father. As he did with his Mom, despite her inability to give anything closely resembling a damn about him these past few years.

So he couldn't stay in Sunnydale, which brought him back to a question Ash had asked him almost fifteen minutes ago. One he repeated, if only for his sake.

"You wanna road trip with me?"

"Sure, why not?" Ash replied with a big smile. Xander frowned, giving the older man a withering gaze.

"You may have years upon years of MSU under your belt, but I lack even a GED," pointing out something most parents found very important.

"Don't they have a test for those?"

Well, obviously his father wasn't most parents.

"Yeah, but-"

"Study, take it, bam! One up on all the kids in school."

"Why, though? Why would you want to . . ." he let himself purposely trail off.

"You're my kid. Now, granted, I hate deadites probably as much as you hate vampires, but I'll give them one thing. Weren't for them and their damn book, I probably never would have found out about you. That's worth somethin', bucko."

Xander blinked, surprised. This time Ash frowned.

"You're my son. I may have missed out on you growing up but I wouldn't mind getting to know ya," he answered, again surprising the Californian. He had a parent who wanted to spend time with him. "Besides, whaddaya got for yourself here? Besides for your Ma?"

"Hellmouth."

"Your friends can handle it. You told me they kicked you out of the group for your own good, I say it's their job to die keeping those demonic dirtbags locked up tight."

Xander paled a bit. He didn't exactly like them all that much these days, but he definitely didn't want them to die.

"Y'know what I mean. They decided you don't do nothin' worth mentioning, even if you save their asses on a semi-regular basis and can smack a vampire around pretty well," Ash mentioned, causing a slight flush to heat Xander's cheeks. He'd been caught taking his anger out on a vampire. The vampire seemed genuinely relieved when he'd been staked.

"But they-"

"What? Need you? Yeah, they do. But you wanna stick around so they can take potshots at you? Blame you for anything you're remotely involved in? Bucko, that ain't what friends do. I can't imagine how it feels, but lookin' at you I can see it can't feel the tender lovin' of a fine woman," Ash finished with a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"What about Mom?"

"Write her, call her, let her think you're exploring the world a bit. After that GED thing so she doesn't jump down your throat."

She wouldn't, but Xander nods.

"Plus, maybe we can send her some cash. Discreetly. Maybe let her know I'm back 'round these parts. Give her a reason to leave that jerk, even if it's so the two of you can spend time together without that whale ordering you around."

"When would we . . ." Xander asked, unsure. Ash smiled a bit.

"End of next week. Should give you more'n enough time to handle the important stuff. GED, getting some clothes and weapons packed. Oh, and tomorrow you should drop by the S-Mart after you let the school know you're dropping out. We still have a pretty good sale going on some of our guns," Ash finished excitedly, causing Xander to blink.

Then he frowned.

"So the gunfire there two weeks ago?"

Ash smirked. "Deadite scum."

Xander just huffed out a chuckle.

"It'll also give you and your girl time to . . . uh . . . wrap things up? No, that sounds terrible. I mean-"

"What girl?" Xander asked, in a voice much too tight to be anything but guilty.

"The blonde . . . oh. Won't say another word. One of _those_ kinds of girlfriends. Gotcha," Ash replied, scratching behind his ear uncomfortably.

Xander felt himself flush a bit again, embarrassed but being able to push away shame he felt he probably should feel. After learning the Scoobies would barely let him in the library without a burning desire to get his learning on, Xander felt he owed himself some self-destructive behavior to match how his life was going. So he had bought a pack of cigarettes and was fairly certain that had been a suicide attempt given the coughing fit that followed. He switched to bringing a flask to school and letting himself laze about between buzzed and drunk, before quickly giving that up after a choice nightmare that had him and Tony Harris lazing about on the couch, chatting like old friends.

So he did the one thing that would have Willow - if she was still his friend, that is - checking Xander over for brain damage. He flirted with Harmony. A lot. He didn't do subtle, because subtle tended to go right over her bleach blonde head. It would also have the side-effect of her thinking he was trying to become her friend or something. But fortunately, she caught on quickly.

Well, it actually still took two days and spending the majority of one of their conversations staring down at her chest and complimenting her top while still staring, but he could forgive her since the idea of Xander Harris flirting with Harmony Kendall was as alien as Buffy Summers becoming a Cordette. She'd been a little against the idea of being anywhere within fifty feet of Cordelia's leftovers and said so. He acted surprised that she wouldn't want to be with someone who knew some of Cordy's deepests and darkests.

Xander had then discovered that Harmony was actually easy enough to be around when her mouth was otherwise occupied.

Afterwards and after letting Harmony know that just one of Cordelia Chase's purses was a knockoff - that mister Chase had given his daughter for Christmas for some odd reason - he'd felt like scum. But it only took a bit more iciness from his former friends to make his 12:20 appointment with Harmony a regular thing.

Eventually, when they started having sex he was surprised to note it was because the blonde had wanted it and he really didn't have to share much in the way of secrets anymore. Sure, he was suddenly paraded around like a prized stallion and the detached behavior from his friends became outraged at his choice in girlfriend and public dislike. He'd been ashamed for a while, but that faded as well.

His life had sucked and seemed to be going down the drain, but at least he could do so with a smile on his face. But now he had a chance to not just lurk in the cemeteries, clean up whatever team slayer missed (which, even with Faith, seemed to be far too much to be natural, as if someone was bringing the nasties in). He held no reservations. This would be a road trip that might not have an end anywhere in sight. But if the look that had graced Ash Williams' face when concerning guns was any indication, there would be plenty of blood spilled and most of it would come in shades of black and green.

Something Xander could certainly get behind. His life in Sunnydale was all but done for, anyway.

"Yeah, kinda. Don't worry. True love it is not," Xander offered, still a bit red in the face. "I'll do it. I've never really had a Dad who I've shared a hobby with. It'll make for an excellent bonding experience."

"That it will," Ash said excitedly, with an eager grin on his face. "And oh, look! Those nice vampires are offering us a head start."

A wicked smirk crossed Xander's face as he spoke, "Groovy."

Ash stared at him, at Xander Williams - as he was mentally referring to himself as to get used to the change - in surprise before returning the smirk tenfold. A shotgun appeared in his hand, where from, Xander had no clue. Not that he minded.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

**Author's Note: Seen an _Evil Dead_ cross here and there, but I have never seen one that addresses the physical similarities between Nicholas Brendan and Bruce Campbell. Which is easy. Xander Harris is obviously Ash Williams' son. After the previous chapter, I was reminded of this and eagerly typed this out. Had fun doing it, too. This probably won't become a full story, but you can bet I'll have a few more chapters featuring Ash and Xander. Which reminds me, I should never say anything's a one off. There's always a possibility for a continuation of a previous one-shot.**


End file.
